--

The small house reeked of alcohol, anger, and disappointment.

The air was thick with the sound of sharp slaps and muffled cries.

"Besharam! Naak kata di tune!"

(Shameless! You’ve disgraced us!)

The harsh words rang through the room, followed by the thud of a fragile body hitting the floor.

Purvika’s heart clenched in horror as she rushed inside.

"Baba, please ruk jaiye!" (Papa, please stop!) She fell to her knees, shielding Priya’s trembling form with her own body. "Piyu galti kar chuki hai… par aap ise maar ke sab thik nahi kar sakte!"

(Piyu made a mistake… but beating her won’t fix anything!)

Her father, his face twisted with fury, grabbed her by the arm and flung her aside.

"Hat ja, Purvika!"

(Move aside, Purvika!)

His voice was like thunder. "Is haramzadi ka yehi anjaam hoga!"

(This disgraceful girl deserves this!)

( Purvika.. Purvika sharma an 21 year old girl )

Purvika scrambled back up, eyes wide with fear and desperation.

Her mother, standing in the corner, whispered coldly, "Tu bhi iske saath doobegi?"

(Will you drown with her too?)

Purvika’s eyes filled with tears, but she didn’t move.

"Piyu abhi sirf unees saal ki hai, Maa!"

(Piyu is just nineteen, Maa!)

Her voice broke. "Usse apne galti ka ehsaas hai! Par aap log—"

(She knows her mistake! But you all—)

A sharp slap cut her words short.

"Chup! Humare ghar ki ladkiyan yeh sab nahi karti!" Her father seethed.

(Shut up! Girls in our house don’t do such things!)

Purvika turned to Priya, her lip bleeding, her head spinning.

The younger girl was curled up, shaking violently.

"Di…" Priya choked out. "Mujhse bardasht nahi hota…"

(I can’t bear this anymore…)

Purvika’s stomach twisted in fear.

"Piyu, aisa mat bol,"

(Piyu, don’t say that)

she whispered, reaching out. "Main hoon na? Hum kuch karenge…"

(I’m here, okay? We’ll do something…)

But Priya was already stumbling toward the back room, her steps unsteady.

"Main sab theek kar dungi…"

(I’ll fix everything…)

Purvika froze as realization dawned.

"Piyu, ruk!"

(Piyu, stop!)

She sprinted after her—but it was too late.

The sound of breaking glass and retching filled the air.

Purvika crashed into the room, horror twisting her insides.

Priya lay crumpled on the floor, her lips blue, her fingers twitching. The bottle of poison rolled from her grasp.

Purvika stood frozen at the doorway, her heart hammering against her ribs as her gaze fell on the limp figure lying on the floor.

"Piyu!"

Her voice cracked as she rushed forward, dropping to her knees beside her younger sister. Priya’s skin was cold, her breathing faint. The broken bottle of poison lay nearby, its contents staining the dirt floor.

Tears blurred Purvika’s vision. Her trembling hands cupped Priya’s face. "Piyu, aankhein mat band karna... main yahan hoon."

(Piyu, don’t close your eyes… I’m here.)

A loud scoff shattered her moment of panic.

"Marne de isse!" Her father’s drunken slur cut through the air. "Jis din paida hui thi, tabhi mar jaana chahiye tha!"

(Let her die! She should’ve died the day she was born!)

Purvika flinched at his words but didn’t dare look at him. She couldn’t afford to break down—not now.

"Baba, aisa mat kaho… woh bimaar hai."

(Papa, don’t say that… she’s sick.)

Her voice shook as she pleaded. "Uska ilaaj karwana hoga. Main—main kuch bhi kar lungi!"

(She needs treatment. I—I will do whatever it takes!)

Her mother, sitting in the corner with empty eyes, finally spoke, her tone flat. "Paise kahaan se aayenge?"

(Where will the money come from?)

Purvika turned to her, desperation gripping her chest. "Main kamaa lungi, Maa!"

(I will earn, Maa!)

Her father laughed bitterly, stumbling forward. "Haan? Aur kaise? Apni izzat bech ke?"

(Oh? And how? By selling your dignity?)

Her breath hitched, but she swallowed back the sting of his words.

"Main mehnat karungi, Baba," she whispered, her voice barely above a plea. "Koi bhi kaam kar lungi, par Piyu aur uske bachay ko bachaana hoga."

(I will work hard, Baba. I will do any job, but we have to save Piyu and her baby.)

Her father’s lips curled in disdain. "Mere ghar ki ladkiyan paisa kamaane nahi jaati!"

(Girls in my house don’t go out to earn money!)

Purvika held Priya closer, pressing her forehead against her sister’s.

"Baba, main aapse haath jodti hoon…"

(Papa, I beg you…)

Her voice cracked. "Piyu ka ilaaj ho jaane do. Aap jo kahenge, main sunungi."

(Let Piyu get treated. I will listen to whatever you say.)

But her father only spat on the ground and turned away. "Tere jaise besharam ladki ka bolna bhi paap hai."

(It's sinful of a shameless girl like you speaking)

Purvika squeezed her eyes shut. She was used to this. The words, the accusations—they weren’t new.

But tonight, she had no time to cry.

She lifted Priya into her arms, ignoring the burning pain in her shoulders. "Maa, darwaza kholo," she pleaded.

(Maa, open the door)

Her mother hesitated for a second, then pushed the door open.

Without looking back, Purvika ran into the night.

---

The Next Morning

The hospital smelled of antiseptic and bleach. Purvika sat beside Priya’s bed, her fingers tightly clutching the hospital bill.

10,000 rupees.

She exhaled shakily, blinking back tears.

The doctor’s words haunted her. "Agar ilaaj der se hota, toh bachana mushkil tha."

(If the treatment had been delayed, saving her would’ve been difficult.)

She saved her.

But at what cost?

Her hands trembled as she looked at her sister’s pale face. Priya was only seventeen, barely more than a child herself. And the unborn baby… it was gone.

Purvika brushed away a tear before it could fall. She had no time to grieve.

Right now, all that mattered was money.

---

The sun blazed mercilessly as Purvika stepped into the dry, cracked fields. Her soft hands, unused to hard labor, trembled as she picked up the sickle.

The farmers around her paused, staring.

"Yeh ladki… kaam karegi?"

(This girl… will work here?)

"Sundar toh hai… par kitni der tak chalegi?"

(She’s beautiful… but how long will she last?)

"Uska baap sharaabi hai na?"

(Her father is a drunkard, right?)

Purvika clenched her jaw. She didn’t care what they said.

She bent down, her fingers bleeding as she cut the tall stalks of wheat, her dupatta slipping from her head as sweat trickled down her neck.

The whispers around her grew, but she focused on her work. One swing, then another. And another.

Her father’s words rang in her head.

"Tere jaise besharam ladki ka bolna bhi paap hai."

Purvika tightened her grip around the sickle.

"Main besharam nahi hoon." Tears flowing from her eyes

(I am not shameless.)

"Main sirf ek behan hoon jo apni chhoti behan ke liye lad rahi hai."

(I am just a sister fighting for her younger sister.)

"Aur ek din, main iss zindagi se bhaag nahi rahi hoongi. Main jeet rahi hoongi."

(And one day, I won’t be running from this life. I’ll be winning.)

She was fragile, innocent—a beauty among beasts.

But even flowers had thorns.

-----

Hey lovely lilies ! ✨

You’ve just met Purvika Sharma, a fragile yet fierce soul fighting against all odds. Her innocence, strength, and resilience shine even in the darkest moments.

What are your thoughts on her

introduction? Did it pull at your heartstrings? Do you feel connected to her struggle? Let me know in the comments—I’d love to hear your reactions! ❤️

Also follow me on my Instagram account for more spoilers and updates

@_niaxitsme_